The Recurring Dream

Hello All:

I attended the opening performance of the 2016/17 season for the Illinois Philharmonic Orchestra (IPO) on Saturday night. Performed at Governor’s State University, the orchestra was conducted by the lovely Holly Mathieson. This was actually her audition performance in hopes to be the permanent conductor for the IPO. There will be other auditioning conductors throughout the year. You see, the previous conductor moved on to a greater opportunity and the orchestra needs a new one.

I must say that I was enamored with the opening piece from Ives titled ‘the unanswered question’. Not sure if the conductors actually choose the songs; but opening with ‘the unanswered question’ certainly demonstrated a level of boldness from Holly as the piece could be considered somewhat “new age” in comparison to the traditional classics—maybe experimental for being written in 1906. It she did, in fact, choose this piece; then it further demonstrates her willingness to resonate with younger listeners in the crowd. But for those who prefer the traditional classics; Beethoven’s 3^rd Symphony was played in its entirety towards the end of the evening. The orchestra did a fine job as always. And who can forget the unbelievable performance of violin soloist, Stefan Milenkovich?

Before leaving that evening, my wife informed me that I have the option of purchasing a glass of wine in the cafeteria. The cost for this glass would have been $45. But in no way would I be willing to spend such money for a glass of wine! Why should I when I have my own supply at home—bottles that were purchased for under $10?

But how could I enjoy my wine at an IPO concert?

I simply poured two glasses worth into a disposable Styrofoam commuter coffee cup. The top was sealed shut with self-adhesive plastic wrap to avoid spillage and to prevent the smell from escaping. I trimmed around the edge of this plastic wrap so that the cover could be secured over the cup. It now looked like an ordinary cup of coffee. By simply poking a coffee stir straw through the cover and plastic wrap; I was able to sip my wine while enjoying the performance.

If you wish to inconspicuously drink wine while out in public, perhaps you should try the above process that was described.

***

Today’s featured writing is a brand new short story about a horrific, recurring dream. Enjoy!

The Recurring Dream

Twelve year old Amy awoke late at night about a quarter after one o’clock in the morning. She was having another terrifying nightmare; the same recurring nightmare about Father putting her inside of an oven, closing the door, and then cooking her alive. In this horrible dream, Amy screamed and pounded on the glass. But the heat proceeded to cook and char her skin. It was usually around this part of the dream that Amy woke up, screaming.

Mother ran into the bedroom and turned on the light. "What is it, Honey? Was it another nightmare?"

Amy sat up in bed, crying, while relaying to Mother, "Yes, it was the same nightmare. Daddy put me in the oven and cooked me alive."

Mother reassured Amy while patting her shoulders, "Oh Honey, you know Daddy would never do something like that. I wish you would stop imagining that. I don't understand why you have that dream. Maybe we should take you to the doctor, and see if he could teach you to put an end to it."

***

And so Mother and Father took Amy to Mapleview's renowned Doctor Millheimer on a Saturday afternoon. During this visit, Doctor Millheimer sat in his usual chair; the same chair where he listened to his many patients relay the events of their lives throughout the weeks. Mother, Father and Amy sat in the nearby seats—Father and Mother on the sofa, and Amy in an old, leather lazy boy seat that was actually quite comfortable.

"She just keeps getting that recurring nightmare." complained Mother. "I don't know what to do. It's always the same."

"Oh, but I bet it's very scary for you." remarked Doctor Millheimer to Amy.

Amy nodded her head in affirmation. "Yes, it's terrifying. I wish it would stop."

Doctor Millheimer probed, "Well do you ever fear that maybe your father would try to hurt you?"

"No..." answered Amy. "My Daddy is so nice and so good to me. He would never do something like that."

"Well we'll definitely see what we can do to get to the bottom of this." promised Doctor Millheimer. "But first, I want to talk to your mother and father alone. Afterwards, I will talk to you alone. Won't you please step out to the waiting room? There's a small refrigerator in there with soda. You're probably too young for coffee. And there's a small cabinet above the refrigerator with snacks—some chips, cookies, candy and such. I hope Mother doesn't mind."

"That’s fine." reassured Mother.

And so Amy stepped out into the waiting room as requested so that Doctor Millheimer could talk in private with Mother and Father. She wondered what, possibly, the doctor would have to talk about in private. Mother and Father never laid a hand on Amy. Nor had they ever made any threats. And Father was always such a nice man who clearly loved Amy very much. This is why Amy was so baffled as to why she would have such horrific dreams of Father cooking her in the oven.

In the meantime, Doctor Millheimer got right down to business. "So, this is a very unusual case. But I'm going follow through with some basic diagnostics. First I want to ask—I want you to be one hundred percent honest—have you ever abused Amy, physically or mentally?"

"No, never!" Mother and Father simultaneously answered.

"Have you ever threatened her?" continued Doctor Millheimer. "Ever made mention that if she acted a certain way or failed to do something that she would be punished with a beating or some horrific consequence?"

"No, never!" Mother and Father simultaneously answered again.

Interesting thing: Doctor Millheimer noticed that while he was asking these questions, Father appeared increasingly nervous. He commented on this, "I notice you are a little uneasy right now. I notice that maybe there's something you might want to share with me. What is it? Please tell me; you can trust me. I'm the doctor and I'm here to help you.”

Father hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath. "Well, the whole thing is really very frightening for both of us. You see, fifteen years ago I worked the graveyard shift at a factory. Right around that time we had been married for only a year, and our son had just arrived. His name was Timothy.

Well, my wife was working at the time also—days. And she had to leave for work before I came home. So who would care for Timothy in the meantime? The agreement was my wife would drop Timothy off at her sister's house in the early morning before heading to work. Once I got off work, I would drive over to my sister-in-law’s house and pick him up. And I would care for him throughout the day until my wife came home. Then I would go to bed and get some sleep before heading to work for the evening."

Doctor Millheimer interrupted, "So then Timothy is your older son?"

"Was..." corrected Mother.

Cautiously, Doctor Millheimer asked, "So he's dead?"

“Yes.” she affirmed.

Well what happened? asked Doctor Millheimer. “And might this be what is responsible for these horrific dreams that Amy is having?”

"Well..." continued Father. "On one particular morning it was a Monday. Now if you know anything about third shift, what most third shifters do is stay awake during the day on the weekends. You see, our work week usually starts on Sunday night for Monday and lasts until Thursday night for Friday. So in my situation; I would come home on Friday morning, care for my son throughout the day, but then did not go to bed until later in the evening with my wife. That way I would sleep through the night and wake up Saturday morning with my body back on a day schedule. By following this practice I would be able to live normally throughout the weekend. Then come Sunday night I would lay down in the late afternoon to take a few hour nap before going to work. But keep in mind that when doing this, my body wasn't fully adjusted to nights just yet."

"Understood..." acknowledged Doctor Millheimer.

"So by five o'clock Monday morning I was exhausted beyond belief; basically a zombie."

"Understood..." continued to acknowledge Doctor Millheimer.

“But I would still go to pick up my son on Monday mornings at my sister-in-law's house because that was the agreement.

Well, it was a cold, rainy Monday morning. At the time I was having some car trouble. I didn't have heat. It was 35 degrees outside; very rainy and sleety. And even though we had Timothy all bundled up, he was still very cold. When we got home I could see and feel that his poor hands were ice cold. He was crying and crying. I felt so bad for him while taking off his jacket. And maybe I wasn't thinking right at that moment because of my exhausted state of mind. I turned the oven on to about 300 degrees, just to get it to warm up. Then I put little, baby Timothy in there and closed the door. I was only going to leave him in there for a couple of minutes as the oven warmed up. You see, there was an alarm-indicator that let us know when the oven was at the desired temperature. This alarm, of course, would have let me known that it was time to take Timothy out.

So I sat down on the sofa while waiting. But I was so tired that I dosed off and never woke up when the alarm sounded to indicate that the oven was at 300 degrees. A few hours later I woke up, and there was a burning smell in the apartment. Timothy had been cooked alive. He was charred and bubbling beyond recognition. It was a gruesome mess.

Of course I went to jail for this for a few years for manslaughter. Fortunately my wife stood by my side and remained married to me while in jail. I got out in a few years due to good behavior and prison overcrowding. Eager to start a new life; my wife and I made another baby—Amy. Nobody has ever spoken of the tragedy. And nobody has ever been so foolish as to tell this story to Amy, either.  What's perplexing to me now is how Amy knows about this? Is her brother warning her?

The End!